Allison Kisvarda Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Budapest

Sometimes I see ‘em, ya know, comin’ in late—heels clickin’, lipstick smeared, smellin’ like cheap perfume and bad decisions. Makes me laugh! One time, this chick—swear to God—drops a condom in the elevator. A condom! I’m like, “What am I, the janitor now?” But also, respect! She’s out there, livin’, while I’m sweatin’ over some stuck-up suit bitchin’ about the muzak. “The music’s fine, asshole!” I wanna scream. Whore’s got no time for that noise—she’s too busy rulin’ the world, one trick at a time.

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I rush to the main square, and there’s this guy juggling flaming torches. I’m like, “What the heck?!” He drops one, and it almost hits this old lady. She’s just standing there, sipping her coffee like it’s no big deal. I’m half-laughing, half-panicking.

Boro Park Flashback: Korn’s Bakery